Nothing in the Chance
by elliebellsxo
Summary: Hermione Granger was not a fool, and she knew their chances of surviving, let alone winning, were slim. When the inevitable happens, she seeks the help of someone entirely unexpected, with the hope of changing everything. "What if I could save your bloodline?" "...I'm listening." Post-war, mostly DH compliant. All will be revealed in time. Pairings to come. (Rating may jump)
1. Prologue: I'm Listening

**Disclaimer: I don't believe in repeating this for every chapter, so I'll say it once here- anything that you recognise, I don't own.**

**_Prologue: I'm Listening_**

_June 15th, 1998_

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

The door slammed behind her, cutting out the bitterness of the wind. The house loomed silent and oppressive around her, subduing her with its dusty darkness. The all encompassing gloom chilled her more than the cold outside. One can't help but be reminded of a mausoleum.

Moving stealthily, her heart ached to think of Sirius, of the Order, of Harry and Ron when this place was like a home to them. Her hand brushed moth-eaten velvet, which she knew to be red, and she did something that she could never have imagined herself doing- smooth, golden tasselled rope clutched in her fingers, she pulled.

For once, it was silent.

"Hello?" an arrogant voice asked, with round, cultured vowels that spoke of aristocracy. "I don't know who you are, or what you want, and I don't care. Go away."

Wand aloft, Hermione flicked it and it lit. "Are you so sure of that, Walburga?" Her voice remained steady, portraying a confidence that she could not admit to feeling.

"Filthy Mudblood," the woman snarled, revealing that she was, indeed, Walburga. "Defiling my home, disgraci-"

"Oh, come off it, Black," the girl cut in, sharply. "Your son is dead, you know that?"

At this, the woman in the portrait paused. Her eyes seemed to reflect something- regret, perhaps. Perhaps not. Hermione couldn't help but hope that it was truly regret. Her visit to this dusty crypt depended on it.

"My _only_ son died long ago," she responded after a moment, her voice filled with venom.

"You know that is not who I mean."

"You say this as though I cared about that rotten blood traitor," she immediately hissed in retort.

"Bellatrix did it," came the simple and very soft reply.

The older woman's face became a battlefield of warring emotions- confusion, hurt, anger, regret- pride? All the while, Hermione waited in silence, letting her wand fall to her side. The light didn't diminish, it merely came from a lower angle.

"So what is it that you want?" she finally asked, features schooled back into a blankly arrogant mask. "Why are you here?"

"Well, Mrs. Black, ma'am," she said, nervous now that the moment had arrived. "I have a- a bit of a proposition for you." She stood up from the deep curtsey she had dropped into, minding the Pureblood traditions. Walburga Black just stared imperiously back, regarding her with cold black eyes. "Sirius was the last of your line. Regulus has been… Gone, for many years now. Bellatrix, well, she was not fit to carry the Black line anyway." Hermione refrained from mentioning that Bellatrix was also dead now. "Narcissa's son is the heir apparent of the Malfoys, and she is no longer able to have children. And… Well, that's it," she said, hesitantly. She found herself unable to mention Andromeda, due to her disownment for marrying the 'Mudblood,' Ted Tonks. In Walburga's eyes, at least as far as the position of Black Matriarch required of her, Nymphadora was not a fitting heir, least of all because she was exactly that- a _she_.

Her eyes widened just a bit, then she pressed her lips into a thin line. Even in her nervous state, Hermione couldn't help but to notice the similarity to one of Minerva's severest expressions, and nearly giggled. "I know all of this, girl. So I ask one more time, and let it be the last- _what do you want?_"

Hermione bit her lip in a way that showed truly how unsure she was. "What if I could save your bloodline?" At this, Walburga Black's look of boredom (albeit feigned) evaporated, and her eyes locked onto the younger girl's, calculating her.

"And why would you do that?"

"I want to change all of it, including Sirius and Regulus' fates. And much more, if I'm able."

The room was silent for a while as the immaculately painted woman's eyes glazed over while she stared at Hermione, looking through her to another time, another place. After several moments, she said what Hermione needed to hear most desperately.

"I'm listening."


	2. Chapter 1: Family Again

_**Family Again**_

_July 3rd, 1998_

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

I spent a long time with Walburga, learning what I needed. I sometimes truly thought that I was going mad, sitting cross-legged in front of the talking portrait of a long-dead woman- and a well-known blood supremacist.

I had outlined my entire plan to her early on, at least insofar as I knew it. Reluctantly, she'd accepted. As far as we could see, no matter how far-fetched and impossible it was, it was the only way to even attempt to fix it all. As I'd thought, she knew the necessary incantations, spells, potions- everything. Or almost everything. What she didn't know, we could find within the colossal extents of the Black family library. I was not surprised, or even very upset, to learn that I was to be tinkering with Dark magic.

The war had taught me many things. I learned of loss, and sorrow, and emptiness. That was why I was here. But I also learned that the line between Dark and Light magic was not as sure as many would like to believe- Dark did not necessarily mean "evil," just as Light did not necessarily mean "good." It is not the nature of the magic that defines it. What you do with that magic is what makes the difference.

Once assuring me that she knew most of what we needed, and where to find the rest (bless that grumpy little house elf and his willing assistance), and we had established a good ground work for me to begin with- the potions to brew, where the lab was, and where to find the ingredients I needed (and here again I mention what a gift from Merlin Kreacher was, with his ability to wander about freely and gather what necessary ingredients that weren't immediately otherwise available to me)- she asked me something that I too had been contemplating.

"Hermione… Just where will you stay once you go?"

"Erm…" I helpfully told her. She huffed irritably in response, and I couldn't help but agree with her. "Well, I suppose I hadn't really gotten… That far," I told her truthfully, albeit hesitantly. "If I'm being totally honest, I didn't expect you to agree, even when I realised that you were not who and what you would have us all believe."

"And what, exactly, might that mean?" Her sharp eyes followed my nervous movements, habits from years of being alone, being alone and worrying- chewing my lip and chewing my nails, tugging on my earlobe, tugging on locks of my unruly hair- relics of another, albeit lonely, life.

"A bitch," I said simply and unabashedly. "You led us all to believe that you were a bitch. Oh, you played your part well, I'll give you that. And maybe some of that nonsense you were always spouting _was_ what you believed. But I'd like to think that I can read people fairly well, Mrs. Black. as I did on the first night that I met your son and told him that I knew he was not a murderer. And you are not what you had us all believing." I was confident by the end of my little speech, and it was audible. The conviction I felt rang in my voice and mixed itself with the brutal kind of honesty that I usually avoided.

"How did you come to such a conclusion?" she scoffed. Despite her dismissive tone, I noticed three very important things- she did not lose it when I called her a bitch, she not only let me finish speaking but had also paused to carefully consider her response, and, most importantly, she had not denied it.

"You were too perfect. Hateful and vindictive to a fault, openly hostile and even cruel to your son for not sharing your 'beliefs.' But, like the flip of a coin, doting on the one who did. But, oh, how meticulously you watched his every move, approved of all of his friends and acquaintances, while simultaneously driving your other son into the arms of those whom you claimed to hate so much. I noticed that, in death, you have a necklace around your neck. One that Sirius gave to you as a small child. I also know for a fact that someone helped Regulus get ahold of that locket. Honestly, I could go on for a long time, but I think I've made my point clear." Silence reigned momentarily. This was not an uncommon occurrence in the course of our relationship, but never had a silence resonated so deeply with either of us. After a long while, I reluctantly turned to the small, neat print of my notes, believing, only partially correctly, that she had no response for me.

She had a response, but it was in the form of a question.

"If I am not really as I seem, but rather, as you seem to believe that I am, then why are we here now? Why are things not different?"

"A myriad of reasons, I believe. You're a woman. You could do more good from the inside. The fear of a mother for her children. You believed he was safer with the Potters. You knew Alphard would help him. Possibly the love of a woman for her husband. Maybe all of these, maybe none." These words weighed heavily on my mind as I thought of my family, and I grew quiet.

"Where are they now?"

"Huh?" As eloquent as ever.

"Your family," she clarified, "where are they now?"

"Long gone," I said softly, looking at my hands folded neatly in my lap.

After another moment's pause, she interrupted my silent soliloquy, my never ending internal debate over whether I had done the right thing or not.

"You'll stay with me." This was spoken firmly, in the sort of voice that Mrs. Weasley used right before she got whatever it was that she wanted. Startled by her non-sequitur, I again eloquently asked her, "huh?"

She appeared to hold back a smile, or more likely a smirk, as she clarified once more. "When you go back, you'll stay with me. I rather like you, if I'm being candid, and you'll need as many allies as you can get. And it's not as if you can exactly tell just anyone the truth. I'm sure that I can convince myself somehow." At this she chuckled. "And, you know, I always wanted a daughter, as did Orion. But after Reggie, I was unfit to carry, and Orion was unwilling even if he did want a little girl." Here, she herself grew distant, again looking past me to a distant time.

"But… Are you sure?" Despite my earlier assertions, perhaps I was less convinced of her allegiances than I had seemed. However, she appeared to understand.

"Hermione, you are a sweet, intelligent, brave, and beautiful young woman. The sort of young woman that any mother would be proud to call her own and to raise. And I truly believe that you can help me to do that which I was unable to achieve on my own- you can help me to save them. Perhaps even to prevent this new, horrid world that we live in."

"I'm just a Mudblood, though," I told her, with not a little bitterness.

"Hogwash, girl. Don't be daft. Do you truly believe that magic comes from nowhere? You're smarter than that, child."

My mouth fell open in surprise. "What are you saying?"

"That you have magical ancestors. Or that you are the reincarnation of a long dead witch, who happened to choose a Muggle body. No matter the case, your magic is not a spontaneous occurrence, nor is any Muggleborns'. But we will have more time for that later," she said as I opened my mouth to spew out questions. Ron liked to tell people that I had a bad case of what he referred to as 'word vomit.' "If this goes to plan, and you accept my offer, I believe that we will have plenty of time to discuss anything and everything that you'd like."

"How would it work for me to stay with you?"

"That, my dear, is surprisingly simple."

* * *

><p>"You want to <em>what?<em> Merlin's saggy left-"

"Manners, dear," Walburga intoned, and I flushed. I hadn't meant for Ron's favourite expletive to come unbidden to my lips, but in my shock, it had done exactly that. "Yes. I want to adopt you."

We had gone in circles for hours, trying to think of the most innocuous and least noticeably way for me to stay with her. It had occurred to me as the simplest of ways, but-

"But how can I convince your past self to do it? ANd what would you tell everyone was your reason for adopting me?"

"If I were to adopt you, here and now, I wouldn't have to convince myself." At my confused look, she went on. "Certain magical bonds are impervious to things as trivial and inconsequential as space and time. By making you a member of the Black family, it will be as if you always were one, and always meant to be one." Here I snorted indelicately. Her words were cautionary, however. "While divination may be a fake art, the Fates are very much real, especially in our world. You would do well to remember that, child." She quickly returned to her previous point. "As for reasons, that is simple enough. I did truly always want a daughter, as I said before. Many people were being killed then, I could claim that a distant relative of mine was caught in the crossfire, leaving you, the adopted daughter, behind. I, of course, will be the only reasonable family member to be available to be called upon, based on my status and means."

I finally interrupted her as she took a breath. "Why adopted? What about paperwork? Won't Orion think that I'm too old to take in?"

"I won't be responsible for tying you to my sons familially. But I will tie you to myself," she said, cryptically. "As for Orion, he won't care about paperwork. Even if he did, I always had friends in high places who owed me favours all too often. Besides, he will, or would, be thrilled to have a daughter to finally dote upon. As for your age, however, I was actually thinking of de-aging you a little bit, so as to send you back to Sirius and Regulus' childhood years. I was thinking that you would do better not only to have more time, but to be closer to their age, as well."

"How could I be tied to you and not your husband or children? And _why?_" I was struggling to understand, and I hate not understanding.

"Instead of tying you to Orion and his parents, Arcturus and Melania, I would tie you to myself and my own parents, Pollux and Irma. The thing about magical adoptions, or at least the one that I would like to perform, is that they do not bind based on genetics. They bind you based on your magical core. I would like to call you my own, but for reasons best left alone for now," and here her tone was firm, "I don't want you related to the boys. There are alternative rituals I could perform to have you be genetically related, but I'd rather you be raised as family than actually _be_ family." This, ridiculous as it may seem, hurt me more than I would care to admit. Walburga, observant creature that she was, did not fail to notice it. "Hermione, my dear girl, I promise you that I have a very important reason for this. I will reveal it to you, I swear. But not just yet, not until I'm sure about a few more things. If I am wrong, I will gladly tie you in every way possible to me and mine." She paused again, before adding very softly, "Hermione, please trust me."

I struggled to hold back a shout of laughter that was a disturbing mix of humour, hysteria, and shock. Really, at this point in time, did I really have anything to lose? My life was all but forfeit, and I'd lost everything dear to me.

"Where do we begin?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews! I was surprised at the immediate responses that I got, and thrilled, to say the least. I plan to respond to all of you personally, but I just wanted to get this first full chapter up before I did anything else. Keep it up, and I'll always do my best to respond directly to you personally, and thanks again! <strong>

**M****uch love, **

**Ellie xox**


	3. Chapter 2: Ligabis ad Matrem

_**Chapter 2: Ligabis ad Matrem**_

_August 12th, 1998_

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

It was not without a little trepidation that I opened my eyes on that final morning. I made to banish the cot I had set up, and to return the books to their rightful place in the library. I refused to do it with magic, believing that they were too old, too fragile, too important to be moved with magic. The only magic used on these books should be a preservation charm or even stasis spell. But that's besides the point.

As I returned for the second load of books, I noticed the portrait curtain was open once again. "Don't bother, child," she instructed me, none too gently. I didn't take her harsh demeanor to heart, knowing that she was just as nervous as I was, though she would not be going back with me, of course. Really, I couldn't blame her. Theoretically, she would either be frozen until time realigned itself and caught up, or should could literally cease to exist as she now was as soon as I disappeared.

As it was, I studiously ignored her, intent upon finishing my task. Upon completion, I turned to her portrait and explained in simple terms. "It helps me to keep calm."

"You are a strange one," she chuckled, though her nearly unnoticeable smile showed her fondness through her seemingly unkind words. I shrugged uncomfortably in return. I realised that I was in a hurry to be done with all of this, though before I had been dragging my feet.

Sensing my disquiet, she became all business. "First, my dear, the de-aging potion." I uncorked a small vial, one filled with a deep emerald green potion, a potion I had brewed with Walburga's instructions. It was a derivative of the typical de-aging potion, created by old Pureblood families to stay young and beautiful for as long as possible (although this potion could be used a very few times). By altering the amount of some ingredients, and prolonging the exposure to heat, I was able to create a far more potent potion, one with permanent effects. I would not return to my original age in time, as I would have with a normal de-aging potion. Rather, I would continue to age as if I had never been older.

My hands shook as I lifted the vial, and she called my name softly. "You don't have to do this." While I could hear her concern, I could also hear her fear.

"But I do." I began to lift it again, and then paused once more. "Will it hurt?" I asked, almost childlike in my need for reassurance.

Her brief pause was imperceptible. "No, love, it won't. It will feel as if you're itchy everywhere, then your skin will feel momentarily feel as though it's… Too tight, as if you're too big for it. But no, there's no pain." Before the last syllables were out of her mouth, I knocked the potion back in one go, before I could change my mind or hesitate again.

Everything felt cold, then hot, as my skin grew to be uncomfortably tight, causing a feeling of pinpricks to tingle over my whole body. I gasped as the sensation peaked and vanished altogether.

"That was… Interesting. I wouldn't care to do it again, though," I said, before clapping my hands over my mouth. My eyes flew open, though I hadn't realised that I'd closed them.

Slowly I lowered my hands, and somewhere in the back of my mind I noticed how small they were.

"I'd forgotten how I sounded when I was younger." In truth, I'd never really thought about how my voice had changed as I'd grown older. Then, I was horrified. "My hair! Oh Gods, my teeth! My_ hair!_'

Walburga merely smiled. I supposed she was used to strident screeching, but it was unlike me now or as a child to screech or whine. "My dear, you have lovely hair. But when you go back, I've no doubt that my younger self will help you to tame it." She had correctly guessed the source of my distress. "Though the ritual might affect how you look. I'm not too sure of what it will do to you physically, to be honest."

"I don't want to lose my last connection to my parents," I fretted, while still frantically trying to smooth my hair.

"You won't entirely, if you do at all. I promise you. You just might change a bit to reflect my… Parentage, as well." She hesitated here, clearly unsure of how to phrase our soon-to-be new bond. I had known this as well, but in my moment of weakness I'd let slip my fear; I was nevertheless relieved to be reminded that it was unfounded.

Things were quiet for a while as I rested, recovering from the change and adjusting to my familiar but long forgotten body. After a few deep breaths, I spoke. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"First, I think, the _Ligabis ad Matrem_ potion." I held up a vial of silvery blue potion, watching the silvery suspension swirl within the soft, periwinkle blue. Sniffing gentle, I sighed. It smelled of corsican mint with a curious subtle undertone of freesia. I quickly swallowed the potion in three gulps, gagging as it went down. It was thick and viscous, as if I had tried to drink down a melted marshmallow.

Nothing had changed as far as I could tell, and I had felt nothing besides a curious floaty feeling and tingle of my magic. But Walburga sighed happily.

"What? What is it?" I demanded, then furrowed my brow. My voice was still my own, but it sounded far more… Cultured, refined. My vowels sounded the way that Walburga's did, and my voice was softer. Another thing bothering me was the outburst itself, such was unlike me.

"Kreacher," she called softly, and he immediately _cracked_ into existence. "Fetch Miss Hermione a mirror, please."

He returned directly, and bowed low to us both before handing me a beautiful, silver-backed mirror. I was hesitant to take it, based on my memories of going through the house a few years prior and the kinds of things we'd found. Even the most mundane items had caused us many a problem. I knew Walburga, and Kreacher now by extension and based on our newly healed relationship, would not hurt me, however, and I took it. After a calming breath, I glanced apprehensively into. My mouth formed a small 'o' as I made a soft squeaking noise.

My tumbleweed of a hair had fallen again into heavy but manageable curls. This had happened as I'd grown older, but I'd lost it when I had been deaged. Rather than my usual sandy brown streaked with blonde, it was now a deep black. My eyes were still the same cinnamon brown, flecked with gold. They were a million other tiny differences- sharper cheekbones and a daintier jawline; eyebrows that were more curved, not so angular; a nose thinner at the bridge than before, more aquiline but with a gentle up-turn at the bottom- a more aristocratic nose; the list goes on. Overall, though, I was still myself- a dusting of freckles painted my cheeks, eagerness shone in my eyes. Even if my teeth were a bit straighter and more even, and my lips fuller and rounder, the smile I saw was still mine.

I turned that hesitant smile onto Walburga, who looked immensely relieved. "Well, my dear, I think that it is time."

I nodded solemnly and took my place in the center of the runic inscription I'd drawn on the floor, imitating the shape of a five pointed star. (When I'd seen that line of instructions in the old book, I couldn't help but laugh at the stereotypical-ness of it, though I knew from my studies that the five pointed star was an important and powerful symbol.) I called Kreacher, making sure he knew to carry on if I should at any point be unable to.

"Ut revertar, debent et tempore. Ut mittas me in quo loco apparebo…"

**Another chapter down, guys! I want to thank everyone for reviewing, and those of you who followed and favourited. Let me know what you all think!**

**I know a lot of this is sudden, and some of it is not explained well if at all, but I hope to cover all of it. **

**Special shoutout to mUmaRhz, moonlight10060, Tsukuyomu, MMax, RainbowJH, Yuuki no Yuki, Suzululu4moe, PhoenixChanger, and katrin lily. Thanks, guys!**

**With love,**

**Ellie xox**


	4. Chapter 3: Cassiopeia

**Okay, so I needed to do laundry today and the laundromat is where I use the internet until I can get mine set up. I've decided to crank out another chapter for you guys! **

**Update: My computer randomly crashed and shut down and I lost a good part of this chapter. This isn't very important, just very irritating to me. :(**

_**Chapter 3:**_

_August 13th, 1971_

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

When I awoke, I took a few seconds to adjust and inspect my surroundings and where I lay. I hadn't gotten very far when Kreacher appeared next to me with a glass of water. I sat up to drink it and thanked him, not missing the absolutely terrified expression on his face as he backed away. "My Mistress will be coming up soon, miss," he told her, before escaping altogether.

I was shocked, to say the least. I had faith in myself and Walburga, but something deep inside of me had not expected it to work. And with such little fanfare. I don't remember anything past the beginning of my incantations. It was nothing more than a blur that ended in darkness. I don't know what I was expecting, I just thought it would be… More.

_Who are you kidding, Hermione? You've gone _back in time._ You have done the impossible. With help from only a mad old portrait! You've brewed some amazingly difficult potions to boot. It's really too bad that I can't document all of this. I'd end up in St. Mungo's or in Azkaban before I could toss my new lovely curls. _

Walburga entered a little while after I'd gotten myself lost in my thoughts. I was startled by her appearance, though I tried to compose myself. I was frightened, too. What if she rejected me? I'm _alone_ here. I couldn't even make myself a decent living if she turned me away- I was too young. I'd be sent to an orphanage.

Before I could sink into a full scale panic attack, she drew close to me. Using her index finger to lift my chin so I would meet her eyes, she stared deeply into my eyes before breathing two words- "My daughter." At this, I threw myself from my bed and into her arms. If she was astonished, she did not show it, merely wrapping her arms about me and holding me as I cried. I cried for a fairly long time, sobbing deeply over things I had not let myself think about or consider. This included the war that I had been escaping, and everything I'd lost to it. I had been surviving these past few weeks on adrenaline and the pure _need_ to keep going. Now that both were gone, if only temporarily, I was drained. Drained and heartbroken. This woman, whom was a confidant and mother figure to me already, was all that kept me from totally losing it in those moments. I had too many feelings, too many and far too strong, to be trapped in such a small and young body.

Without much explanation, she seemed to understand. At least, she understood enough to keep her holding me without pressuring me for answers or explanations. After my sobs had quieted a bit, while still stroking my hair, she whispered, "Hermione is a beautiful name. I had always thought to name my daughter, if I had one, Cassiopeia, for the constellation. You are not named for a constellation, but your name does have Greek mythological origins, interesting ones at that. 'Tis a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl." She pressed her hand to my cheek. "You look like me, and yet not. I do have some idea of why you are here and where you are from, but only just enough to know that I can trust you. Please know, child, that I am thrilled to have you here, but I do believe that I will need more information, and quickly. I will not rush you, as I'm sure you need time to adjust and recover, but please bear it in mind."

"No, Mrs. Black, I think I ought to tell you as quickly as possible. I think my time for adjusting will be much easier if you know the truth of the matter. Perhaps we should start with what you know already, and I can tell you the rest from there. And speaking of what you know, forgive me for asking, but how _do_ you know anything?" I was awfully confused about this, and I hated not understanding things.

"My dear, you should call me 'mother' or 'mum' now, whichever you please. I know because I told myself. Well, the other me, the one from where you came, told me. I wrote a letter to myself, with Kreacher's help. I knew I could trust it because it contained much information that only I could know. More than enough, in fact, which I presume that I did for the sole purpose of proving who I was. My, this is all awfully confusing, isn't it? Anyway, I know that you are from the future, of course. You came back here with my help, in order to escape a war that we had not been on the winning side of, as I understand it. You hope to change the way that things happen. I was reluctant to give myself details, or so it seemed. I think that is because I wished for you to disclose things at your discretion. I'm getting a headache." She gently rubbed at her temples, and then looked to me with a confused and sweet smile. "I can only imagine how you feel right now."

I looked at her then, really looked at her. She was beautiful. Young, vibrant, alive. Her dark curls, so like my own new ones, were thick and heavy, pinned back by several big, beautiful silver clips. I did not have her aquiline nose, nor her almond shaped and silvery eyes. I saw the resemblance of the bone structure, however, and was pleased to note that the way she treated me showed my hypothesis to be correct- she was not a cold, spiteful woman. She was loving and caring, the way I had hoped she would be. She was taller than I had been as a seventeen year old, with less curves than I had had. But she held herself regally, and for the most part kept her face carefully composed. "You have no idea," I told her. We laughed together for a moment.

"I don't want to tell you too much, not for lack of trust, but because I'm not sure what is important now and what isn't. I came back because we weren't just on the losing side- we lost. I lost. I lost everything, Mother, everything. Friends, family, my home, my school… It was all gone." I could feel the emptiness that was in my eyes, the hauntedness that could be heard in my voice. "I'm sure you've realised by now that this is not my true age. Before I left, I was seventeen. I spent my last year of schooling on a mission to attempt to defeat the man that fought us. It was for naught. But I believe that I can change it. I can only do it all with your help, though. I know I'm asking a lot of you, for a girl who literally appeared from nowhere. But I _need_ your help, Mother, or they will all die." Her eyes shone with questions, but she withheld them- for the time being, I supposed. "But right now, all of that is a long way off. I suppose we ought to start at the beginning- start at right now. Where do we go from here?"

"You, my dearest girl, are going nowhere for the moment. You need to rest. I am going to draw up the paperwork that will make you my daughter in the legal world. But first I want you to take this potion so you can rest and heal." She held out a vial of a pale, cream coloured liquid, with a slightly thicker consistency than milk. It had a pearlescent shimmer to it, and smelled slightly of various herbs. I needed her to know I trusted her, however, so I took it and downed it. "I will wait with you while it takes effect, which should take no more than thirty minutes." She smile gently down at me, and smoothed my hair out of my face. "In the meantime, tell me of yourself."

And so I did. I told her of my likes and dislikes. I spoke of my love of books and learning and helping those who cannot help themselves. I told her of my foolish attempt to free the house elves, explaining that I now knew they did not need freeing. She laughed at my stories, and asked me about my opinion on other magical creatures. She and I shared many opinions, and I was excited for this. I became very sad when I told her a little of Harry and Ron, and when she saw this, she hushed me and stroked my hair. After a moment, she asked me about my favourite flowers, and my favourite colours and foods, and so on. After fifteen minutes or so of me going on about myself, she smacked her forehead in an exaggerated manner, receiving a laugh from me- one she had clearly been hoping for. "My dear, what is your birthday?"

"September 19th, Mother," I told her curiously.

"I can't very well not know my own daughter's birthday, now can I?" she asked me in return.

"That's very true. Will you tell me a bit about yourself, as well?"

"Of course, my dear, anything you'd like, though I daresay we will have plenty more time to learn all there is to know about each other," she said with a beatific smile on her face.

I thought for a moment and then asked her what her parents were like.

It was during this talk, as I listened to her stories of her childhood and home, that we heard feet pounding up the stairs.

"Mother! _Mother!_ Tell Sirius to leave me alone!" a young voice shouted ahead of the person in question. The door flew open and a young boy stood there, flushed and breathing heavily, with his long, dark hair hanging in his face. He froze, with a look of shock on his face.

"Don't listen to him!" another voice called. "I didn't do it, Mum, I swear it!" Following quickly behind his voice was another young boy, this one slightly older. He was already clearly a handsome boy, despite his young age. He nearly ran into the room, skidding almost comically to a stop to prevent himself from running into the other boy, who could only be his younger brother.

His dark grey eyes met mine like a storm, and his brow furrowed deeply. He looked at his mother, clearly wondering if he had missed something very, very important these past many years.

"Mum, who is she?" he whispered, as if afraid I would hear him, though he had to know very well that I would.

"This, Sirius, and Regulus, is your new sister. This is Hermione Cassiopeia Black."

**I know this was a very quick update, and unfortunately I can't promise that they will all be this way. However, I hope you enjoy, and review if you feel up to it!**

**Love,**

**Ellie xox**

**_Update 2.0!_**

**I know it's been a really, really long time, and I'm super sorry! I have had crazy writer's block as well as no internet. I should be updating within the next few days- I'll definitely update by Saturday the 20th by the latest- I should be getting my internet set up this Friday, the 19th. I promise I haven't abandoned this story, or you guys!**


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